The End of the Rope
by Short-Circuited
Summary: Just a normal story of friendship,humor, and romance. Nothing could possibly go wrong! Yet sometimes, people can just be at the end of their damn rope. Especially, when America and England are involved. *Warnings*: This story does contain OC's, yaoi, het, sexual innuendos,uses human and nation names, and language.
1. Global Warming At It's Finest

**Disclaimer****: I'm only putting one of these at the beginning of this story. So everyone listen closely.**

**I in no way, shape, or fashion own Hetalia, nor do I hope to make a profit from this piece of fanfiction. Because that is all this is, a fanfiction, written by a fan.**

**Author's note at bottom.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Global Warming At Its Finest

Normally, the world meetings that occurred between the nations were held in the large conference room with the oval table, marble walls, and plush red carpet. The climate would be in a relaxing state to where it all depended on what each representative preferred. They could take off jackets if hot and put them on if cold. The nations would each have an individual seat and enough elbow space between each of them that two people could fit in.

But today was not the case, as they were all packed together like packaged sardines.

Of course, Alfred F. Jones could be heard over all the nations as he would spew out nonsensical ideas to all the other representatives surrounding him (he always got the head of the table). He had even brought pictures this time to emphasize his points he had planned on making today. They still were on the topic of Global Warming, and have yet to reach a suitable accord. It would probably be the fact that the only people who actually cared about the matter were Ludwig, Arthur, Elizabeta, and Alfred.

But Alfred's ideas and opinions didn't count in the minds of the other nations, due to the fact that they were absolutely absurd. So, in reality, the only people that cared were Ludwig, Elizabeta, and Arthur. Much to his chagrin, everyone would brush off Alfred's ideas like they were nothing, that's why he chose to be loud most of the time. . . But then again that just might be his overbearing personality. Yeah, let's go with that assumption.

Today though, none of Alfred's words could be heard. In fact, all that could be heard was the pants, groans, or moans from all of the nations representatives. It was the middle of June and it was scorching. Alfred didn't know what it was about Saturdays but in his opinion they always seemed significantly hotter than any other day of the week.

He was use to different climates, cold, hot, humid, dry; etcetera. In his opinion, he loved the warmer weather; it reminded him of the warmer climate in his southeast Victorian styled home. The southeast was normally a humid place, especially in Alabama and Georgia, and his home was right on the Georgia-Alabama state line. He rarely got to visit his home due to national affairs, but when he gets a chance for a reprieve his first impulse is to travel to his southern home. Well, his first impulse is to get a burger, but that's always his first impulse, whether working or not.

Anyways, he was use to the humid and hot climates, but this . . . This was just ridiculous! A hot summer's day inside. Now, this wouldn't be so bad if they were in the nice, large conference room that the nation's governments funneled their money into to make their representatives feel comfortable. Unfortunately, today they weren't in the nice posh room. Unfortunately, they were in the old conference room that hadn't been used for at least twenty years, which had been abandoned in favor of the new updated one on the top floor of the building.

The windows allowed for the sunlight to be filtered into the small room packed with over twenty people. Some of them sat on the floor, some in the few chairs they had, and one (Feliciano) opted to lay on the small square table to take a nap, much to Ludwig's dismay. The women took most of the chairs, as the men were gentlemen and allowed them to sit. The only man that sat was Vash, whom was begged by Lili to sit near her. There was no where that any of them could sit to get out of the searing sunlight. No curtains, no desks to hide behind. No matter how small the room was it was still a very open area.

Not long ago Arthur went ballistic and tried to open the windows to get a least a gentle breeze in the room, but this resulted in him falling against the floor gasping for air; the windows were jammed up from not being opened in a while.

"Bloody, Sun! Why? Why did the administrators decide to renovate the conference room during the summer months", Arthur clawed at the windows. "Oh, hello Flying Mint Bunny. Have you come to help us?" He stated looking over his left shoulder into absolutely nothing.

Across from Arthur on the floor, Feliks inched away from him with a mortified look on his face. Mathias, the Dane, mustered up enough energy to laugh at the scene of the Pole and Englishman.

"What the bloody hell do you mean 'no'", Arthur yelled shaking his fist in the air before collapsing onto the cool hardwood floor. "Whatever", he murmured then relaxed as the floor cooled his hot skin.

Like every other male in the room who wore wife-beaters or t-shirts under their sports jackets and button downs, Arthur had stripped down to nothing but his sky blue wife-beater and brown slacks. This, of course, excluded Ivan the Russian, who took to leaning against the wall on the far side of the room fully clothed, and grinning like a child; a purple aura seemed to burn around him. Creepy . . .

Most of the women wore dresses, so they couldn't do much to alleviate their heated bodies. Luckily, a good amount of men in the room understood their pain when the women rolled the hems of their dresses up to just below the apex of their thighs (just enough to cover the obvious areas). Vash was a bit reluctant to allow Lili to do so, but seeing the sweat drifting down her neck changed his mind.

Francis sat – err, lay next to Elizabeta's chair, passed out with a goose egg forming beneath his soft hair. She sat there blushing like mad, and not just from the heat, her skillet clutched between her hands after hitting the bi-sexual man over the head. She couldn't stand being hit on by men who weren't her dear Roderich, but more so, she couldn't stand being hit on by a man who was also flirting with her dear ex. At the same time! Sure, Hungary and Austria were not together anymore, but she still cared deeply for him, no matter what. Maybe, this wasn't the best weather to be advancing upon people in . . .

"Dude, does anyone know when that mechanic is supposed to get here", Alfred asked from his place on the wooden floor near the door.

"Ja, I put in the request twenty minutes ago." As he said this, Ludwig wiped the sweat on his brow away with the back of his hand.

Alfred groaned, as he took off his glasses, "Man, I could really go for some ice cream right now, or a soda, or better yet a good burger."

"Is food all you blooming think about, you git", Arthur bit out harsher than normal. Alfred told himself that Arthur was just over worked from the heat, while the rest of them knew that that was just Arthur being Arthur.

"No." The Englishman lifted his head to glance at Alfred with a mildly interested look. He cocked a thick eyebrow up at his companion, waiting for his reply.

"I also think about video games too", Alfred grinned brightly while wiping the sweat from his cheek.

"Oh, just save us all the torture and belt up1, America."

"Agreed", chorused around the room in response to Arthur's statement.

At that moment, a knock on the conference room door saved Alfred from any further insults. Alfred hopped up from the floor with a smile, to move out of the way of the door. Everyone in the room chose to sit up quickly, staring at the door with hopefulness in their eyes. Please, let this be their savior.

Alfred opened it, grinning even wider when he saw two girls standing there dressed in the standard navy blue mechanic's uniform – err more or less that is.

The shorter of the two women grinned back at Alfred equally, with her hands resting on her waist where her one piece uniform was rolled down and tied at the sleeves. A white tank top showed off the pale lightly freckled skin across the expanse of her arms and shoulders. Dark sunglasses rested over her eyes, while her long burgundy hair was held out of her freckled face by a plain white bandana.

The short girl waltzed into the room, sucking on a lollipop, like she belonged there; her swagger match that of Gilbert's, Alfred noticed. The other taller girl was nipping at the shorter girl's heels holding a tool box in her left hand.

The formerly mentioned girl traveled to the window nearest to her with a smirk. She maneuvered her dark glasses down to the edge of her nose to look out the window, and then moved them to the top of her head. With a chuckle, and a quick lick to her sucker, she looked back to the room full of pot roasts,

"Howsa' goin'2, Lads 'n' Lassies?"

* * *

1: "Belt up"British slang for "shut up."

2: "Howsa' goin'" Irish slang for "How's it goin."

**A/N:**** First and foremost, I have no idea where this story is going. I've just suddenly become obsessed with Hetalia, and I wanted to write my own story. I'll give you a few warnings about the story at the end of this note.**

**In all truth, though I do adore my fans, this story is really for my own benefit, due to the fact that if I don't write it down my head will implode.**

**I love getting reviews from my loving fans. Please, tell me what you think. I promise you all delicious cyber-cookies and a few Hetalia one shots if you do so. ;)**

**Also, let me know what your favorite Hetalia character is. I love talking to you guys and I would love to get your opinions. Tell me what your favorite pairings are: yaoi, yuri, het, or even genderbend.**

**Personally, my favorite characters are England, Switzerland, America, Germany, and South Italy and I love the pairing SwitzerlandXLiechtenstein. They're so cute together! Meh, I'm a hopeless romantic. Sue me!**

**I love you all my beautiful lovelies,**

**C.Q.**

***Warnings*: This story does contain OC's, yaoi, het, sexual innuendos, and language. Also, I apologize if I screw up different languages. I fear that I'm not fluent in any other language except for English and partially Spanish. I am only using Google translator and I honestly have no idea how accurate it is. If I have made any mistakes, please, by all means, correct me. I despise mistakes.**


	2. Sucker Equals Balls

Chapter 2: Sucker Equals Balls

She maneuvered her dark Ray Bans down to the edge of her nose to look out the window, then moved them to the top of her head. With a chuckle, and a quick lick to her sucker, she looked back to the room full of pot roasts,

"Howsa' goin', Lads 'n' Lassies?"

Her broken Irish-American accent, grated a bit on any listener's ears. It was an annoying sound that Ludwig knew that he wouldn't be able to take for so long. Arthur, also felt the same towards this new comer, but he couldn't really care as he lay in the floor. As far as he knew the short girl with the grating voice and freckles was his new found savior. Even Flying Mint Bunny smiled up at the new girl in reverence he noticed.

The girl frowned a bit, while taking the sucker from her mouth. She coughed a bit and cleared her throat; her red eyebrows knitted together in aggravation. After one more cough she smiled and spoke,

"I'm sorry 'bout that. My old habit seems to leak through at the wrong moments. Oh, mate ye look awful, here", she offered Arthur one of her gloved hands to help him up from the floor. He took it reluctantly, not really wanting to stand up. Arthur noticed her accent took more of an American turn, but there was still a strong sound of her Irish heritage.

"M' name's Emery Cagney, Mister . . . ", she alluded, hoping he would give her a name.

"Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland."

"Aye, I've heard of you, Mr. Kirkland", she smiled warmly and then looked to the whole room.

"Geez, ye all look miserable. I've not been in this place for 30 seconds and I'm already sweatin' my nonexistent ball sack off", she allowed her red sucker to tease across her lips gently before grinning brightly and popping it back into her awaiting mouth.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm your savior", Emery tossed the reps a cute wink before walking to the taller, girl near to her.

The girl looked as shy as Canada, but the eye patch over her right eye kind of threw anyone off who did not know her properly. She looked to the floor to hide the apparent blush on her caramel tinted cheeks and pushed a lock of her short brown hair behind her ear.

She jumped a bit when Emery laid a gloved hand on her shoulder; this caused her to look up quickly, showing off her one good chocolate eye.

"This here's my partner, Ruth Porter, and we're gonna be fixin' that air conditioner for you", the taller girl, now known as Ruth, nodded once jointly with Emery's statement.

Alfred smiled in excitement at Emery's news, "Yes! Finally, we can get some air in this joint and get the show on the road. I have so many ideas to share today! Sad thing is, I don't know if we'll get through all of them."

Ludwig, along with half of the room, groaned in annoyance. He muttered, "Wouldn't that be a crying shame."

At that moment, Feliciano, took the opportunity to wake up from his afternoon siesta to respond to Ludwig's statement with a happy, "Ve~!"

He promptly fell back to sleep, leaving everyone in the room wondering what hell that man was thinking.

Arthur on the other hand shook his head from the Italian's random moment and brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"Excuse me, Ms. Cagney, but I would like know what the hell you think you're doing here in this room, when you said yourself that you are here to fix that bloody air conditioner, which I would like to state is, in fact, outside."

The Englishman's thick brows were knitted together in frustration at the Irish woman. Out of the peripheral of his vision, he took note of the suddenly pale features of Ruth. Her one good eye widened in fear. Once his gaze turned back to Emery he fully knew why the shy girl was scared.

A spark of malevolence could be seen in the narrowed green eyes of the woman in front of him. Other than that, her freckled face remained placid as she removed her sucker from her mouth.

"See this sucker, Caffler1", she asked blandly, gesturing to her perfectly round cherry blow pop. Emery stared at him with that same expression for a good while, before giving her sucker a good lick and sticking it back in her mouth. Without further notice, a prompt crunch was heard from her mouth as she crushed the whole lollipop between her molars; her eyes were still narrowed on Arthur.

She then removed the stem of her sucker revealing that few sweet red bits were still stuck to it. Emery grabbed Arthur's hand and promptly dropped the sticky stem in it.

A malicious smirk made its way to her lips, "That's gonna be your balls if ye don' shut your gob, Mr. Kirkland", she said pointing at the crunched up sucker bits. Arthur quickly dropped the sticky sucker remnants in disgust and slight mortification at her statement. Behind her, Alfred and Mathias busted out laughing uncontrollably, along with Yao who just chuckled in amusement. Ludwig, however look exasperated, only wanting to get on with the meeting in peace.

Arthur looked more like a gapping fish than an English gentleman as Emery walked away to Ruth where she grabbed a hammer and a short crow bar out of the tool box.

"Now, before Gobshite2 here shot off his pie trap, I was gonna open these windows for you all. That way while I fix the air conditioner you guys can get at least a breeze from outside. But, if you all feel the same as your friend here then I can-"

"No!"

The response left everyone's mouth before anyone could even think about it. Even Arthur yelped out a distressed, no, at the Irish woman. In turn she grinned and motioned for Ruth to follow her, to which she did of course.

" 's what I thought", she grinned happily, traveling over to the window nearest to her. There Emery and Ruth began to work on getting the windows open.

Without being told, Ruth grabbed a can of oil from the toolbox and began to lather it on the tracks where the window would normally slide up on. They worked silently together, nothing needed to be said for they each knew their place and their job. After all, this was an easy job, if they couldn't fix a jammed window, then they didn't deserve to be the U.N. office's official care takers.

Emery took her hammer and tapped the end of the little crow bar in her hand with it. The wedge worked its way into the metal between the bottom of the window sill and the window's actual frame. She bent the metal a bit, forcing the end of the wedge beneath the windows bottom. Then with one strong push down her end of the crow bar the window popped free.

Smiling a bit, Ruth pushed the window up as far as it would go. A gentle breeze drifted in from outside the mansion. Just as Ruth was about to turn back around Feliks knocked her out of the way in order to get to the newly opened window.

"My god, I thought I was going to like die, or something", Emery rolled her eyes at the dramatic man and began to work on the other windows.

Every time a window was opened more people got up to crowd around the newly acquired air. They finished in about twenty minutes. It wasn't as hard as they kept going, because they soon adapted to a rhythm that only partners could acquire together.

After the last window was opened, Emery placed the tools back in the box, which Ruth picked up with a scary easiness. The box was full of iron tools, yet she handled the box like it was merely an extension to her body.

"We'll be back to check the air ducts as soon as we take a look at the unit. We think it might be a burnt out circuit, but you never know", Emery pushed of few strands of her, which had fallen in front of her shoulders.

Arthur, whom sat below one of the opened windows fanning himself, took a small notice of a large scar running from, as far as he could tell, right below Emery's left ear and traveled to curve right below her left clavicle.

"Alright, Emery. We'll see you then. You too, Ruth", Alfred grinned thankfully and Arthur rolled his emerald eyes at the fact that he used the women's first names.

The women both nodded and exited the room.

It seemed a bit quiet after they had left. One could only think that the reps were just enjoying the air too much, fearing that if they spoke the cool air would be blown away. Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes. Thankfully, the men were able to get dressed back in their formal attire, while the women rolled down the hems of their skirts. The girls took their places back in their original chairs. Ludwig and the other men took to leaning against the walls around the room, spread out so that they could all see one another.

Right before Ludwig went to speak, to finally get the meeting started Mathias smirked at Arthur, whom was right across the room from him. Mathias chuckled before saying,

"I like that one girl, Emery. She seems fun." He cocked a blonde eyebrow in mock question at Arthur, "What do you think, Caffler?"

Arthur glared at the Danish man, "Put a sock in it."

* * *

Outside, Emery giggled to herself, waiting for her friend to ask her what she was happy about. Yet, Ruth didn't need to ask what her friend was giggling over. Her friend had a fetish. One that she was subjected to not too long ago.

Another giggle, almost a cackle, left the girl's throat. Ruth merely followed next the shorter woman, toolbox hoisted up onto her shoulder. With her opposite hand, Ruth unzipped her uniform a bit, revealing a purple tank that was almost overflowed by her large breasts.

"Wacker3! Put them things away, girlie. You're gonna knock someone out with them puppies!"

Emery joked with her friend as they walked down the halls to make their way outside to the unit. The shy girl blushed and looked to the ground in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, it's just so hot", she muttered to the floor.

The red headed girl crossed her arms behind her head as they continued walking. She glanced over towards Ruth with another grin,

"Don't sweat it, darlin'. Hell if I had boobs like yours I'd flaunt them as much as possible. You're lucky; I only have bloody bee stings", Emery sent a glare down at her flat chest, as if staring at them would make them bigger.

* * *

1: "Caffler" – Irish slang for arse, or idiot.

2: "Gobshite" – Irish slang for twat,

3: "Wacker" - Irish slang for idiot.


	3. Fuzz Nugget

Chapter 3: Fuzz Nugget

It was only when the meeting was half way over with that the two female mechanics traipsed back into the room.

While everyone was still hot and sweaty it wasn't as miserable as before the windows were open. In the mean time, Elizabeta ran both of her hands through her brown hair to try and get some air to her hot scalp. She barely registered Alfred's rant as she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail at the base of her skull.

Elizabeta twiddled with a strand of her russet bangs on the side of her head and stared out the windows across from her. She really wanted to get out of this place. With a sigh she looked at her gold plated watch and grimaced when she noticed that they still had thirty minutes left to go. The Hungarian plopped her chin in her hand in exasperation and yawned.

She really wished this would just end already; it was obvious that they were getting nowhere and it's not like anyone actually cared. Of course she cared but it's kind of hard to care about something when no one else did.

Honestly, she couldn't wait until tonight. She and Katyusha, after lots of begging on their knees convinced Vash to allow them to take Lili for a girl's night out; given that she had to be home by nine o'clock. That meant shopping, dinner, and movies for the three. She promised Lili a few weeks ago that she would take her out to buy some new clothes. For Lili, if truth be told, wanted to impress Vash and show him that she wasn't a little girl anymore; albeit she was still only thirteen. Elizabeta couldn't help but giggle a bit at the teen. Poor Lili wanted to be with her "brother"; although, she couldn't blame the girl, Vash was a cutie.

The Hungarian looked to the young man in question. She had to refrain from chuckling out loud at the sweet scene. It seemed as if she wasn't the only one ignoring the American's rant. Across the table, Lili twirled a strand of her short honey hair around one of her lithe fingers. She stared curiously off into space; her face didn't show what she could possibly be thinking about, but Elizabeta thought that she had a clue.

The curious thing was that next to Lili, Elizabeta could see Vash, whom glared at his lap, not looking up one bit. The only movement that he made was the quick glances he would toss Lili from the corner of his eyes. If it were anyone else other than Elizabeta they would think that Vash just had some kind of tick in his eyes, but she knew better (especially if that pink tint on his cheeks had anything to do with it). She snickered one last time before looking away to the front of the room.

She blinked twice. Elizabeta couldn't believe her eyes – err well she actually could, but at the front of the room Arthur was strangling Alfred. She had no idea what he was choking America for, but the scene was phenomenal. Francis, who had finally woken up, chuckled behind her.

Apparently, he was getting a glorious kick out of the fact that his two friends were battling it out at the moment. Well, England was trying to battle it out, while America just held him at arm's length away by the top of his head. Alfred was, of course, grinning like the damn fool he was.

"Damn it all, America. You bloody Git! Get your damn hands off of me! You dodgy1 burgers for brains bastard!"

Francis shook his head in amusement, "Il ne vieillit jamais_._"2

It seemed these girls had perfect timing, because, yet again they knocked on the door, saving Alfred any more scorn from the ballistic Englishman. How the girls would always have perfect timing, Elizabeta never knew but hell, they seemed to knock at the right damn moments.

Instead of waiting to be let in like last time, the girls (meaning Emery) busted up into the room, causing Ludwig to glare at them silently. Apparently, Emery thought that since she was given access last time that that was her free pass anytime. This seemed to tick Arthur off to no end and he just had to insult her. It was also in account that he just wanted another chance to get back at the ruddy Irish woman.

"I don't think we gave you permission to enter, Ms. Cagney", he spoke with narrowed eyes;" We could have been speaking about classified national affairs."

Emery looked down to the floor, acknowledging Arthur who seemed to be in a questionable position on top of Alfred, yet again with his hands around the American's neck. She cocked a thick eyebrow and pulled a new sucker out of her pocket. This time it was sour apple. After running her tongue across her lips and unwrapping the lollipop, Emery spoke down to the Englishman, motioning to the situation that he's in,

"Come er ta me?3 If by 'classified national affairs' you mean sharin' new BDSM ideas with each other apparently, then by all means", she growled softly, shining her half-lidded eyes down on Arthur, "I'm glad I barged in."

England let his jaw drop in shock; a red tinge quickly rose to his cheeks as he watched the woman twirl her tongue around the sucker, before winking seductively and stepping over the two nations. It took no less than two seconds for Arthur to scramble away from his place upon Alfred.

Across the room, no one noticed as Ludwig blushed softly. He closed his eyes and groaned to himself in frustration. His azure eyes flicked quickly to the Italian next to him. Feliciano was finally awake from his siesta and he currently was staring at the new women. He wasn't awake when they first came earlier, but he had learned enough from Romano in that time that he knew who exactly they were.

"Germany! Germany! Romano was right! Ve~! Those girlies are cute", he pulled on Ludwig's arm as he pointed at the women at the head of the room. "I'm sad that I missed them before, Germany."

Back at the front of the room, Ruth drug a ladder in through the doorway singlehandedly, the toolbox sat on her right shoulder, light as feather ( at least to her). She set the box on the floor and opened the ladder right below the air vent in the room. Both girls looked to be splotched everywhere in oil and grime from working outside on the unit. It showed up more so on Emery, as she wore a white tank.

Behind Ruth, Emery stood pulling her gloves back over her small hands. The thick, tan gloves engulfed the pale things like they were nothing. She then tucked her hair behind her ears and picked up a few tools from the box on the floor; they were stuffed into her tool belt.

Emery removed the sucker from her mouth and turned to the nations, "Alright, sorry for the silence, but what we're doin' is climbin' up in this air duct to check the rotary fans. We don' know if somethin' is blockin' them or what but we'll find it out."

She tossed her sunglasses to Ruth, who caught them and slid them into her pocket. Emery started to make her way up the tall ladder and her partner came to stand behind her, bracing the ladder. The Irish girl spoke as she began unscrewing the white air vent,

"We looked outside at the unit, but nothin' was wrong, 'cept for the expected grime in the gears", she grunted as the vent pulled free from the hole. "Please, don't let us bother you, lads. Continue about your business and you won' even know that we're here."

With that final statement she clambered up into the hole in the ceiling. Her boot clad feet dangled for a while as she struggled to pull herself up. The woman had no upper body strength like her friend. Emery peaked down at her partner,

"Sure you don' wanna climb up here? It would save us a lot of trouble."

Below, Ruth's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. She motioned to the ladder, in which it seemed Emery understood her point.

"Right, heights. Got it. Here goes nothin'." And with one strong grunt she yanked herself up into the hole.

Emery pulled a flash light from her belt and shimmied her way along the air duct to the very end. For a while nothing could be heard from the woman, except for the occasional loud slam of her heavy boots against the tin ducts. This silence allowed for the nations to begin their discussion once more . . . with a little less physicality of course.

Just as Alfred went to open his mouth, Arthur slammed his hand across it quickly, punctuated by a hard glared.

"Don't you even start." His response was a swift lick to his palm, to which he recoiled in disgust. After pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he looked to Ludwig,

"Germany, do you have anything to add in? I'm sure we'd all like to hear at least some kind of intellectual response."

Everyone ignored the offended "Hey!" from behind Arthur and instead looked to Ludwig. They knew they could always depend on him for some insight on any situation. In truth, no matter what America claimed, Germany was the appointed leader of these world meetings. He could always seem to handle the situation with a seemingly calm (sometimes) demeanor and a swift hand, despite his quick to ignite temper. The man certainly had an air about him that demanded respect – though he rarely got it.

"Well, seeing as how it seems that neither of our councils have come to an accord on the situation I believe that we should all – "

"Manky bollox!"

A loud thundering pound sounded above the ceiling at the far end of the room. Muffled words could be heard from the area,

"Fucking spider! Gah! Get offa me, you mangy fuzz nugget!"

Everyone had their attention on the ceiling above them, and then they looked over to Ruth with questioning faces. She merely blushed softly and shrugged her shoulders, before looking up at the hole in roof, wondering if she should help her partner out. Her eyes followed the length of the ladder once before shaking her head to herself. Emery would have to fend for herself against the spider.

A few more bangs were heard before everything quieted down above them. After waiting a few silent moments, Germany cleared his throat to collect the room's attention again.

"Now, as I was saying, I believe each of us should enforce the fact that we need to solve this problem to our councils. This is a problem that needs to be solved quickly, for we never know when the issue could become a problem that we are unable to fix.

"Since we all need to confer with our councils, I think that we should call the meeting adjourned until next week. This will give us time to at least get the memo out. Does anyone have problem with this?"

Ludwig looked out upon the mass for any sign of a negative response. The only thing that came was a loud clang from above and the sound of a fan kick starting. When nothing came from the crowd he looked at his watch quickly and then spoke again,

"Then I guess the meeting is adjourned."

The nations didn't need to be told twice. Each person moved to exit the room, wanting to get out of there as quick as possible. Some people grumbled while others muttered quietly. Things like:

"Finally."

"I'd thought this would never end."

"This was pointless."

"Barmy bint5. Damn girl . . ." (Arthur)

America came up to Arthur, tossing a long arm around the shorter mans shoulders. The Englishman tried to push the overbearing man off of him, but to no avail. The man was just too damn strong.

"Don't feel bad, England. Just 'cause you got dissed by a cutie."

"Pssh, I'd hardly say cute", Arthur crossed his arms obstinately.

"Right . . . So, hows about me and you go out tonight? I know this great place on Abbot Street."

Behind them, Elizabeta came up next to Lili and Vash, latching onto the former's arm. Katyusha, the Ukrainian followed close behind her. The Hungarian smiled down to the short teen next to her.

"Are you ready to go out, Lili?"

The girl in question nodded then smiled up to her brother.

"I'll be home around nine, Brother. Please, don't wait up for me, I'm sure Eliza and Katy will take care of me."

Vash tossed the two older women a hard glare, "They'd better. But you know I won't go to bed till you get home, Lili."

He patted her hair sweetly, before turning to walk off. Lili glared at the back of the man's head and pouted. Her green eyes held disappointment in them as he walked down the hallway. Elizabeta patted Lili's arm in reassurance,

"Don't worry, dear. He'll come around; especially, after we get through with you tonight."

She tossed the teen a wink. Elizabeta giggled at the teen's blush as she tugged her down the long hallway with Katyusha following behind with a smile.

Once the room was empty, Emery finally climbed down the ladder with a metal faucet pipe in her hands. Dust bunnies covered her form and sweat beaded off the back of her neck. She stared at Ruth with an incredulous look, lifting the faucet thing to show her.

"This thin' was jammin' the blades. Wonder where it came from?"

Ruth could only shrug, at a loss for words, and then her visage blanched as she tapped Emery on the shoulder.

"What? What is it?"

Her partner just pointed to the other side of the room, in the farthest corner. Wondering what the heck had her knickers in a knot, Emery spun around on her heel, facing the same direction as the finger.

Emery just let her jaw go slack as her eyes widened in horror. There in the corner stood their impending doom. It was a horrible edifice to be alone with, even the girls knew that.

"You will become one with mother Russia, Da?"

The sweet, childlike man smiled gently at the two young women, whose eyes widened as they clambered over one another to exit the room.

They left the ladder, deciding to return to retrieve it later.

* * *

1: "Dodgy" – British slang for "shady".

2: "Il ne vieillit jamais." – French for "It never gets old"

3: "Come er ta me?" – Irish slang for "Excuse me?"

4:" Gott verdammt noch mal!" – German for "God damn it all!"

5: "Barmy Bint" – British slang for idiotic woman. "Bint" can also mean slut.


	4. Raining Resolutions

**A/N: All statements in the chapter that are in **_**italics**_** are ****flashbacks****, do not get confused.**

**Love,**

**C.Q.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Raining Resolutions

"So, this is that new place, huh?"

Arthur peered up at the small hanging sign above them as they made their way into the classically rugged looking bar. It was one of those places where friends would come to have a good time at and knock back a couple of pints.

"Yea. It's relatively new. I've been here a few times before though. The owner is terrific! Bernie's his name. I came here last week with Denmark when you were having one of your sick spells", America held the door open to the _Old Dog Bar; _a brass bell clanged above the wooden door.

The first smells of smoke and alcohol hit Arthur like wall. The place was small and quite quaint. A bit relaxing really; just what he needed. . .

The bar had a shady air about it as the room was low lit and the only thing that could be heard were the murmurs between groups and an occasional baritone laugh here or there. There was no music currently (it would probably play later tonight) for it was not needed to entertain. The people that this place drew in right now were quite a breed on their own. Entertainment was not needed when the people themselves brought their own. If there's one thing Arthur had learned it's that in the company of friends entertainment is generated of its own accord.

These thoughts caused Arthur to look to Alfred out of the corner of his eye. Despite their past . . .

Arthur shook his head to rid himself of the plaguing thoughts. He did this quick enough to take small notice to a young woman walking, towards his and Alfred's direction. Her wispy, flaxen hair flicked out behind the nape of her neck and shoulder blades as she traipsed pass his left quickly, checking her watch as she went. His bored, emerald eyes connected with her sharp, bottle green ones, framed behind dainty glasses, for the briefest of moments before she exited the bar altogether. He brushed off the encounter as swift as it had happened before turning to find that America had snagged them a couple of chairs at the bar.

As Arthur took off his tweed coat, Alfred, who stood to his left, struck up conversation with the old looking bartender. The man looked to be in his late 50's and appeared as if he'd been in quite a few scraps in his day. Clenched between yellowed teeth, rested a plump stogie, which he took a long drag off of before speaking,

"Alfie, ma boy! What are you doing here this early?" The tender wiped down a scotch glass while speaking pass the stogie in his teeth. The typical, picturesque, movie, bar scene.

"Hey, Bernie. Ah, just here with my pal, Arthur. This is my friend I mentioned last week", Alfred motion to Arthur to his right at the bar.

"He mentioned me_ . . ._", questioned England softly in the back of his mind.

"The sick one?"

Alfred grinned brightly, "The very same."

"Well, by all means, Arthur, to celebrate your getting better, your first drink is on the house", Bernie tossed Arthur a hefty smile that reached his dark brown eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Bernie, that's not really necessary –"

"Bullshit! I say it's on the house, Artie. My treat. So, what'll it be?"

Arthur smiled gratefully up at the big man, "Scotch, please."

"Is that what you'll be having all night, Artie", he questioned, to which the former nodded.

"What about you, Alfie? What will you be having tonight?"

"Whiskey", he stated, placing his tan sports coat and bomber jacket on the back of his chair.

"You got it." Not ten seconds later was the alcohol placed in front the two nations, with a simple, "Enjoy, Lads", tacked onto the serving. The two companions took a moment to clink glasses in an unspoken toast before taking a swig of their drinks.

"So, what have you drug me here for this time, America", Arthur looked to Alfred from the corner of his eyes. There was always that tension . . .

_The rain poured down, each drop a broken promise or memory of their former brotherhood. Although there stood many men upon the blemished battle ground, two of them believed that it was just them. _

Alfred looked to the bar beneath his fists, a seriousness behind his glasses that Arthur had not seen in over a decade. He very rarely became serious as he preferred to be fun loving in nature. Even as England watched America grow, he always noticed that child like gleam in his eyes that never cease to go away. Except that one time . . .

_A single musket sat trained on the owner's opponent, its barrel pointed straight at his head. Only two yards separated the men from one another as their glares were equally matched in intensity._

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something important. Something I've wanted to ask you for the past few decades now", Alfred ran his thumb over the side of the glass, a look of unease in his blue orbs.

"It's real important to me that I mention this now, because I don't think I could go another year without bringing it up", Alfred sighed and took a heavy swig of his drink, before motioning for Bernie to bring him another.

Arthur on the other hand was nursing his beverage, knowing full and well that he'd rather not get plastered tonight. Damn his lack of ability to hold liquor.

"As you know July fourth is coming up", Alfred cut his eyes over to his friend to gauge his reaction. Of course, per usual, Arthur seemed oblivious, and it would take a moment for everything to lock in.

The man always tried to forget the date around this time of year, as it was a particular date that he would like to disregard. America couldn't blame the man though, they both went through a rough time and neither of them is proud of it.

Alfred watched indifferently as Arthur came to realization suddenly. The Englishman's eyes widened as he quickly grabbed up his drink and chugged it in one go. He refused, absolutely refused to look his companion's way.

_Gleaming blue eyes peered across the span of the musket, looking down into equally aching emerald ones. One man dressed in blue and the other in red. A growl escaped the formers lips before speaking gruffly over the sound of falling rain,_

"_Hey, England! All I want is my freedom!"_

Antiquated green eyes glanced down to the wood beneath his hand in misery. He just had to bring that subject up. Arthur could've gone a whole other year without this reminiscence. He barely registered the fact that Bernie had brought them two more drinks. The realization of the new drink only hit him when he noticed a liquid burn running down the back of his tightening throat. The empty glass fell to the bar shortly after its use was out lived.

"Yes. I remember now", he looked to his counterpart, agony in his gaze. "What is it? Your birthday?"

"_I'm no longer a child! Nor your little brother! "_

_The words stung deep. His little brother has departed and in his placed stood a full grown man, a determination bound in his eyes like an everlasting promise._

"Yea. Birthday . . .", America muttered lowly. His knuckles turned white with his grip on the new glass. An amused "hmmf" left him as he brought a hand up to remove his glasses. Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought off an ever growing headache.

"I'm probably putting too much thought into this."

Arthur couldn't help but let a misery-bound smirk grace his lips as he looked at his friend, "That wouldn't be a first."

The comment drew Alfred's attention to England with a soft, candid smile.

"_From now on consider me – independent!"_

_Their gazes held each other for the longest time imaginable, one with agony and astonishment, while the other, in that same resilient determination and resolve. The resolute man gritted his teeth to the point where he felt white hot pain. The other his jaw was slackened, not a single word escaping his mouth. Not a single sound._

"I was wondering if you would come to my party. I know it's not your cup of tea – so to say, but I really want you there", Alfred looked to his glass, swishing the liquid around inside it with a movement of his wrist.

"I know it seems stupid that I'm a bit worked up over this, but you're my bro."

"It's not at all stupid", the Englishman muttered in contemplation.

_The green eyed man narrowed his gaze at his opponent before growling under his breath. His hand reached back slightly to press his fingers against his resting musket and bayonet before charging forward, weapon fully brandished in furious melancholy._

_He hadn't felt his feet hauling him forward until he felt a hard resistance against the blade at the end of his gun. Another gun soared into the air; the one previously trained on him, and fell to the ground in loud clatter that seemed to out shine the thundering rain. The tip of the bayonet shined teasingly, pointed between the now disarmed, blue man's eyes. The man in red huffed quietly, panting, as his body caught up with his previous actions. The agony in his eyes shouted as equally loud as he did,_

"_I won't allow it! You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?"_

_Through the thundering rain both men took noticing of the uniform call behind them,_

"_Ready, aim - !"_

"Look", Arthur sighed, while rubbing his neck, "I understand if you don't want to. It's just that I want the man who raised me to be there for my "birthday". I know the wounds between us are still sore, but I think we should start tending to them carefully, instead of just slapping a Band-Aids over them repeatedly. It's only caused a festering over the years."

"I can't help but feel as though you still care for me, Bro. I know we bicker back and forth, England, and it can't be helped; but that's what brothers do. What their _meant_ to do", Alfred stated with that same un-repressible determination and resolve.

Arthur stared at the, again, newly poured glass of scotch. He had yet to touch it; his itching hands told him to down it, though his mind wanted to stay conscious for a bit longer. He needed to hear the sappy, brotherly things that America was spewing out, which would normally be overflowing with nonsense. He narrowed his eyes at the wall in deep thought, muttering as he did so,

"Of course I still care about you. I raised you from a little tyke ever since you came to me instead of Timo or Francis. Trust me when I say I've never stopped caring."

_Blue eyes widened in fear and incredulity as the bayonet fell from its place pointed between them. It lowered slowly, as its owner forced himself to find his mentality and resolve. The blue man listened to the other's ragged breath; deep spaces between each one lead to a calmer demeanor._

_Red had found his resolve, albeit shattered and torn to do so._

"_There's no way I can't shoot you", he stated with finality. "I can't."_

_The musket clattered to the soaked ground, leaving them both disarmed. Red followed his precious gun to the ground, falling to the swampy floor beneath his boots. _

_With his head in hands he shivered slightly in misery,_

"_Why? Damn It, why!" Sniffles left his form, and he blamed them on the dreary rain. The water that dripped down his flushed cheeks was nothing more than that of fallen water . . . with a seemingly brackish tang to it._

"_It's not fair!"_

_Blue looked down upon the fallen man in pity. His azure eyes softened as his former brother's body shook, sobs quaking his form. Where had his role model disappeared to now?_

_Instead, of his voice mirroring the pity, it mirrored a steady resolution that he had yet to give up,_

"_You know why."_

_A memory flickered in the back of Blue's mind, one of happier times with Red. _

_The spring air was as crisp and clean as the sunlight that shown through it. Blue eyes peered up to the towering form of a gentleman with wise, bright eyes. A smile graced the latter's lips when he looked down at the small child in adoration. _

"_Let's go home", spoke the green eyed man, gently._

_Blue met green as each reached out a hand to the other. The small one slid sweetly into the larger hand and it completely encompassed it, with a tenderness that only a father could have._

_Blue shook the thought away to the back of his mind, where it belonged. Instead, he stared down at the man before him in the same way the man had gazed at the child. Fists clenched together, Blue asked,_

"_What happened?" _

_A sudden coldness struck his azure eyes, the adoration only a soft ember now. He set his jaw and clenched it tight too,_

"_I remember when you were great." His voice echoed a cold reverence, as the sound of thundering rain over took the continuous sobs that came from below._

Rain poured outside the bar quietly, pitter pattering on the dirty sidewalk before it slid down into the storm drains below. Arthur always hated the rain.

"Well, not always. . ." he thought glumly.

"I'm so going to regret this", he muttered softly before downing the untouched scotch. Arthur cleared his throat and glanced to Alfred who still satin silence, more than likely also in his own thoughts.

"Alright. I'll come."

The statements pulled America out of his recollections, immediately he grinned at his friend. He wasn't stupid enough to ask twice, he heard it the first time.

"This is so totally awesome! Rock! Rock! Rock! Rock", his fist pumped into the air in utter elation.

Arthur smirked, thinking softly to himself, "That's the Blue I know."


	5. That Awkward Moment

Chapter 5: That Awkward Moment When You Hit On Your New PA . . . Yeah.

Alfred's jaw slackened as Clementine glared at him with narrowed, jade eyes, the glint on her glasses added to her daunting visage. Regardless of the fact that she was much shorter than him, especially since she sat in a chair while he towered above her, her glower made him feel miniscule and ant-like. The subtle movement of her lower jaw suggested that she ground her teeth together, also adding to her irritated demeanor.

This had been the most volatile way he had seen her respond to his advances today.

She growled and stood up grabbing her purse and a large stack of files before storming over to the door to her small, new office. She glanced back at him while her hands fished around for her cell phone,

"You know, I won my last sexual harassment case", a smirk graced her pointed features, "Just thought I'd let you know. Have a good evening, Mr. Jones."

The door slammed shut, successfully knocking the picture of New York City before 9/11 off the wall. The glass shattered to the floor along with the vase that sat in the corner of the room. The Daisies fell to the floor, into the small puddle of water that sat splattered across the hardwood floors.

With wide eyes Alfred pressed the call button on the phone sitting on the desk near him. He cleared his throat when the receptionist from downstairs answered,

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"Abbey, please send the janitor up to Ms. Wingates' office", he asked quietly.

"Yes, Sir", Alfred heard a small snicker, "Would, Ms. Wingates storming out the front of the building with a pissed look, have anything to do with this call?"

"Unfortunately", he mumbled, while sitting down in the chair that she was just previously in.

A loud laugh could be heard over the phone followed by a small snort of amusement, "Mr. Smith, the janitor, will be up in a moment, Sir."

"Thank you, Abbey."

With that the call ended, leaving the room in silence.

Alfred sighed to himself and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back and propping his feet upon the desk before him. An arrogant looking grin made its way to his lips when he closed his eyes. He removed his glasses to relax a little. A small chuckle left him,

"She so totally digs me."

* * *

Let's go back a few hours, eight or there about. It was an early morning for Alfred, and as usual he had little while to kill before he had to check in with his boss. So, naturally he went to find Abbey, the nice receptionist that he always took his lunch with everyday. His other friends, Arthur and Francis and Mathias, were obviously unable to eat with him, so he always ate with her.

She was a nice woman, around her mid-thirties, with a loving husband, who worked in the same building as a computer technician, and two beautiful children. Her husband knew of her and Alfred's lunch dates every day and was perfectly fine with it. He even joined them when he could, but normally he was too busy with fixing the technical difficulties that popped up every few minutes.

Though as he made his way to the front desk he noticed another young woman sitting in his favorite receptionist's place. She looked very young, an intern more than likely, and she also seemed distressed as the phone rang off the hook every second. She only had a moment to look up at him quickly.

"Mrs. Finch told me to tell you that she would be here later and that you two would still be able to go out to lunch, Mr. Jones", the young girl was rushed with her words, and Alfred, not wanting to bother her any more, gave her a bright thankful smile.

"Thanks, Darling, and don't over work yourself."

The young woman paused abruptly to look up at him with a pink hue on her cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed as Alfred tossed her a wink and then making his way to the elevators, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

It was a short ride from the first floor to the third, luckily there were no other stops to be made, and thankfully he was the only one of the elevator. Though he loved big crowds and being around lots of people, Alfred couldn't stand being stuffed in an elevator box, suspended above a shaft over so many feet from the unyielding floor. Not many people knew this, hell no one knew this except himself, but Alfred was claustrophobic. He was ashamed of it so to speak. Heroes where suppose to be fearless and strong! And strong he was, but fearless . . . not so much.

Exiting the elevator, whistling happily to himself, Alfred crossed the threshold of the third floor walking pass his boss's mean, elderly secretary, Margaret. She never looked up once to greet him and instead stared at the computer screen, typing away with tightly pursed lips and a scowl on her face. He'd rather not speak to the woman anyways. As he approached his boss's office he noticed a young woman that made him stop dead in his tracks.

A young woman sat in one of the chairs outside of his boss's office. Her pale legs, covered by a short black pencil shirt, were crossed over one another with a file resting in her lap. Her wrist flicked across the file with a pen, not looking up when he approached her with a bright, syrupy smile.

She was a pretty little thing, with wispy, flaxen hair and jade eyes hidden behind a pair of thin black glasses. Her eyes seemed trained on that single page, so much so, that she didn't see him as he stepped in front of her. Or so he thought.

"You're in my light", she spoke placidly, not glancing up to him one time. Her voice was soft and almost siren like, lightly doused in a British accent. Alfred thought her voice was a light reprieve from Arthur's normally deeper one.

He stepped back a bit and apologized softly, the smile never left his happy face. Blue eyes stared down at her gently.

"Is this seat empty, Sweetheart", Alfred motioned to her left side where an empty seat sat next to hers.

At first her only response to his question was the quick turn of a page before resuming her quick writing. She cleared her throat a bit," Why yes it is, but this seat will also be empty if you sit down."

Her cold voice did nothing to phase the young nation; instead it offered to challenge him. He liked a bit of a challenge, especially from a young woman as beautiful as her.

Ignoring her icy statement, Alfred slid into the seat next to her; her green eyes rolled a bit and a heavy sigh left her lips. By God, if there was another seat somewhere she would've actually stood up and left. Unfortunately, there wasn't and she was stuck sitting next to this man that had the gall to speak with her. She turned away a bit, showing her back to Alfred, trying to ignore him, but she would soon find out that he wasn't as easily ignored as most men.

"What's a cutie like you doing here? This hardly is a place for a woman of your age."

She sighed, irritated by being interrupted with her work and turned to him a scowl on her sculpted face,

"And what of your age, Mr. Jones? Nation wise your two hundred and thirty five, soon to be thirty six, but human wise your nineteen, in looks and maturity level", she looked him up and down once, offering him a smirk, "Due to the latter, I hardly believe that this is a place for you. For your information, I'm twenty three. Now if you'll excuse me I have to finish this paperwork before my appointment."

With that, she returned to her work and left him to soak in the fact that she just insulted him.

"Did . . .Did she just i-insult me? And how does she know my name and apparently my age", Alfred thought. He looked like someone told him that McDonald's was shutting down.

A pout on his lips and hands shoved into his pockets Alfred got up to walk into his boss's office. The older man sat behind his overly large desk with a telephone to his head. He looked to be just finishing up a phone call as Alfred plopped down into the seat at the front of his desk. He rested his chin on his fist, a scowl on his face.

His boss, John Benton, was a plump man with dark brown, receding hair and a normally jolly disposition. He cared about his employees and always seemed to be in good mood. Even now as he talked on the phone, finishing his conversation, he gave the person on the other end a jolly laugh and a reassuring statement,

"Don't worry, Colonel. Everything will be fine and I will personally handle the situation myself. We'll get don't to the bottom of this. Yes, Sir. Goodbye."

John hung up the phone with a smile and looked to Alfred before busting out laughing.

"What was that all about, Sir", questioned Alfred, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

His boss merely brushed him off with a hand, "Ah, just one of the Colonels filling a complaint about his computer system. Again. I swear we're running Mr. Finch into the ground. I'm thinking about hiring a couple more technicians to help the poor man out."

"I know his wife, Abbey, would like that. He rarely gets to go out to lunch with her and is always getting home late. Too late to even tell his kids goodnight", Alfred spoke to his boss, trying to convince him to go through with his idea.

He knew Abbey would enjoy it if her husband were able to actually come home to dinner at night, and be able to tuck his kids into bed, and be able to read them a story, and be able to kiss them goodnight after they have fallen asleep, just like any father should.

_A little boy of five waddled up to the older boy across the room who sat at his desk. A frustrated scowl, accentuated by his thick brows being knitted together, covered his face. He lifted a piece of paper to look at the parchment beneath it. A growl left his as he slammed the paper down on the oak desk._

"_Damn. I'm going to have to up the taxes to pay off these debts", the young man grumbled before leaned his head back to try and alleviate the ache in his head. "These finances are becoming too much."_

"_Big Bro- I mean, England", the child asked sweetly, staring up him with big blue eyes._

_England sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the horrible look off his face. He didn't want to look at the kid while he was frustrated. So he smiled softly, tiredly, down to the child._

"_America, aren't you suppose to be in bed? It's too late for a little tyke like you to be up."_

_America shuffled his tiny feet, looking down to the floor with a scared look. He looked up to England tiredly, tears in the corners of his eyes. He sniffled softly and wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of his pajama's sleeve. _

_England took notice of this and reacted quickly; he threw down the quill in his right hand and scooped the child into his lap. _

"_America, what's wrong?" He asked, pushing a piece of hair out of the young boy's glassy eyes._

_He sniffled again burying his tiny head into the crook of the Englishman's neck. England only held the boy tighter, comforting him, he was only a child after all. The muffled sound of little America's words were just loud enough for England to hear,_

"_I'm sorry."_

_England pulled the boy away from him to give him a questioning look,_

"_Sorry about what?"_

_America sniffled again and wiped under his eyes where a few stray tears had settled on his cheeks. He refused to look up into the older eyes of his care taker._

"_I'm sorry for crying. It's not something a man would do", America looked up then to England's face to see a small smile._

"_You silly, boy. America, it's okay to cry. Don't be so daft; men aren't just stoic, codgers who have no emotions. It's human to cry, little one. Now, tell me what you're crying about."_

_America, sniffled softly and looked to his lap, "I – I had a nightmare. I dreamt that some ghosts were chasing me an-and I couldn't find you anywhere."_

_Tears poured down his cheeks as he clung to England's neck like his life depended on it. England couldn't help but let a content smile grace his features as he rocked the little nation back and forth. His hand smoothed over the child's head gently, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear. _

"_It'll be alright. Shh shh. It's going to be okay. I'm right here."_

Alfred shook his head softly, letting the memory leave his mind. Those memories had a nasty problem of coming back up lately. But the memory seemed to come up at the right moment. Fathers are meant to be there for their children when they need them most. Granted, England isn't his father, but that's the closet thing he has to one. He was knocked out of his reminiscences by his boss's voice,

"Then it's settled. I'll have Margaret put out notice about hiring new technicians. Speaking of hiring. I have a surprise for you."

At this Alfred's demeanor perked up a bit. He loves surprises. He always loved the sudden rush of adrenalin that came with the thought of a surprise. Then there was also the adrenalin that you get when you don't know about a surprise. That is the best feeling in the world.

"You know I love surprises, John. What is it? A new game? New movie? No, wait! Gift card to McDonald's!"

"Calm down, Boy. I'll let you know in a sec'", John stated with a hearty chuckle as he pressed the page button on his phone.

"Margret, send in Ms. Wingates. Also, I'm going to send you an email later, make sure to check it please."

Margaret's gravelly voice came through the speaker, "Yes, Sir."

Not ten seconds later a knock came from the other side of the office door; it was a solid one, letting everyone know of the oncoming entrance. The door opened revealing the blonde woman from before. Alfred blanched.

She made no effort to look at him as she walked across the room, her red high heels clacked against the hardwood flooring of the office. The woman outstretched her dainty, manicured hand to Mr. Benton, whom took it gently, but was surprised when she gave him a firm shake.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Benton. I hope you've had a good morning?"

Her stature matched that of her attitude, stern; posture stiff and perfect. Her whole countenance demanded perfection and order. Alfred was screwed.

"It's good to see you too and my morning has been wonderful. Please, have a seat", John offered her a smile, before turning to Alfred. "Alfred, this is Ms. Clementine Wingates. She is going to be your new personal assistant."

"W-what", he muttered incredulously, turning to look to the woman who sat next to him, now known as Clementine. Face still white as a sheet he stuck out his hand to Clementine who took it firmly, squeezing softly.

"Ms. Wingates, this is, as you know, Alfred Jones, rather known as America to the other nations", said John.

A small smile made its way to her pink lips; she spoke again with that lovely accent of hers,"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Jones. I've heard a lot about you, Sir."

Alfred felt flabbergasted with her statement. His eyes widened as he couldn't form a coherent thought or even coherent words for that matter,

"B-but. . . I. You – outside. You –." Clementine merely gave him a sweet smile and tilted her head a bit, showing off her sharp emerald eyes.

That smile. It was so . . . so beau-

"Is something wrong, Alfred", queried John," you don't look too swell."

Alfred sunk back down in his chair, not once looking back at the face of Clementine. He felt sick, and not in a way that could be cured by a Tylenol.

"No, Sir. I'm perfectly fine."

"Alright. Well, as I was saying, Ms. Clementine here is going to be your personal assistant. She is going to make sure you stay organized and keep you on track. She will even be following you to your meetings and such. She is there for your needs. Capiche?"

Alfred nodded silently, "Capiche. "

"She will follow you wherever you go. Now that that is settled; Ms. Wingates, if you would like Margaret can show you to your office", John said with a smile.

Clementine smiled back before standing up and giving him her hand to shake again,

"Thank you, Sir. Good day. Mr. Jones, I will see you soon I suppose."

Then, without further adieu, the Brit cleared the room, leaving nothing but the echoes of her heels in her wake.

"She's a gorgeous one isn't she", questioned John as he followed her form out the door. "Not only beautiful but smart too. Born in London and graduated from the University of Strathclyde in Scotland just last year. She moved here a few weeks ago."

America, also watching where she had exited the room,

"Yea, beautiful."

* * *

And now we come to the portion of the day where we had started before.

It was around five o'clock and Alfred sat in Clementine's office, having nothing else better to do. She sat at her desk entering files into the computer, not once looking at the key board.

Alfred had tried to help Clementine, being the gentleman that he was raised to be, and not wanting her to do all the work by herself. When he reached to grab one of the files off desk his hand was promptly met by a ruler. He recoiled, nursing his hand, sending her a confused look. She stated that she had a system going and he would only mess it up. Then she proceeded to ask him if he had any work to do. Clementine's answer was a soft shake of Alfred's head.

"Then sit there and be a good little boy, Mr. Jones, and if you can refrain from touching or breaking anything on my desk", the way that she regarded him with not a single glance made his heart drop.

"I'm not a child, ya know!"

"You could've fooled me."

"Hey!"

"Hello."

Alfred could only huff and cross his arms; as this happened Clementine turned to give him a pointed look. That meant to leave her alone. But, as per usual, he never read the atmosphere, regardless of what Kiku always told him to do. Something had been bugging him for the past few hours.

"Hey, Clementine, can I ask you something?"

A loud, indignant sigh left her mouth and she turned to look at the American with narrowed eyes,

"Firstly: it's Ms. Wingates to you, Mr. Jones. Secondly: you just asked me question. Thirdly: what is it?"

He just looked at her for a few moments, taking in all her words at the same time. They apparently did sink in good enough,

"Right. Clementine", she growled softly, gritting her teeth in silence," I was wondering why you didn't tell John that we had met earlier. You just acted like we hadn't met before. I mean sure I didn't catch your name but you apparently knew mine, so that meant we kinda sorta met. I mean –"

"Mr. Jones, shut up."

His mouth closed faster than it had ever done before. He watched as she picked up a pencil from her holder and began writing on a file off to her side.

"I didn't say anything, because I highly doubt that Mr. Benton would've liked to know that we met when you started hitting on me."

"H-hitting on you? I wasn't I was just merely saying hey, because I had never seen you here before", Clementine glared at him from the corner of her eye, "I mean, not that I wouldn't want to hit on you – Wait that didn't come out right. Your gorgeous, it's just that –Hold up."

A smirk made its way to Alfred's lips as he stood up and placed his hands on the desk in front of Clementine. He leaned low, down to just above her visage. She obviously didn't like the distance between them or lack thereof, for her face twisted into an intense glower. Alfred, being who he was, simply ignored it and continued to stare at her, blue eyes half lidded as he peered at her over his glasses,

"You thought I was flirting with you, when I obviously wasn't. That means you were imagining me doing so. If you would like me to hit on you then all you need to do is ask", he gave her his million dollar grin.

When he heard a snap of wood he finally looked at her face, I mean really looked at her. She looked ticked off as she sat there with the broken pencil in her hands. She threw the pencil across the room.

Alfred's jaw slackened as Clementine glared at him with narrowed jade eyes, the glint on her glasses added to her daunting visage. Regardless of the fact that she was much shorter than him, especially since she sat in a chair while he towered above her, her glower made him feel miniscule and ant-like. The subtle movement of her lower jaw suggested that she ground her teeth together, also adding to her irritated demeanor.

This had been the most volatile way he had seen her respond to his advances today.

She growled and stood up grabbing her purse and a large stack of files before storming over to the door to her small, new office. She glanced back at him while her hands fished around for her cell phone,

"You know, I won my last sexual harassment case", a smirk graced her pointed features, "Just thought I'd let you know. Have a good evening, Mr. Jones."

The door slammed shut, successfully knocking the picture of New York City before 9/11 off the wall. The glass shattered to the floor along with the vase that sat in the corner of the room. The Daisies fell to the floor, into the small puddle of water that sat splattered across the hardwood floors.

With wide eyes Alfred pressed the call button on the phone sitting on the desk near him. He cleared his throat when the receptionist from downstairs answered,

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"Abbey, please send the janitor up to Ms. Wingates' office", he asked quietly.

"Yes, Sir", Alfred heard a small snicker, "Would, Ms. Wingates storming out the front of the building with a pissed look, have anything to do with this call?"

"Unfortunately", he mumbled, while sitting down in the chair that she was just previously in.

A loud laugh could be heard over the phone followed by a small snort of amusement, "Mr. Smith, the janitor, will be up in a moment, Sir."

"Thank you, Abbey."

With that the call ended, leaving the room in silence.

Alfred sighed to himself and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back and propping his feet upon the desk before him. An arrogant looking grin made its way to his lips when he closed his eyes. He removed his glasses to relax a little. A small chuckle left him,

"She so totally digs me."


End file.
